


And I Tried to Hold these Secrets Inside Me

by mythomagicallydelicious



Series: Who is In Control? [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, F/M, Implied childhood physical abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Referenced childhood physical abuse, also bullying from another kid, implied/referenced coercion of sexual contact with a minor, outcast fjord, this is not a good chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythomagicallydelicious/pseuds/mythomagicallydelicious
Summary: There's a few reasons Fjord never brings up his past. He tries to focus on the now, or on the future. If the side effect is that he never has to think about some of the things he went through as a child, then so be it.
Series: Who is In Control? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735969
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	And I Tried to Hold these Secrets Inside Me

**Author's Note:**

> This installment is a HEAVY one. You can skip it. Fjord is taken advantage of for being an outcast by one of the caretakers of the orphanage. 
> 
> Please note the tags, and let me know if I missed one!

**14**

Fjord was pushed down gently, a hand in his hair guiding him. He let himself be led.

“You know what to do, darling. Make my day better,” she said as she scratched at his scalp. Her nails felt like claws and he hid a wince as he nodded. She’d asked this of him many times.

“Oh, and darling,” she said, yanking his head back up slightly, “if you’re not more mindful of you _deficiency_ this time, I’ll see that you’re punished properly for it.” She grinned but it was all malice. Fjord self-consciously chewed on his lip, feeling the growing tusks she referred to dig into his upper lip. Fjord felt his mouth go dry at the threat and nodded, feeling his roots pulled tight where she still held him fast.

“Okay. Be a good boy now, darling. Make momma happy,” she says as she finally releases him and lays back against the propped up pillows behind her.

Fjord ducked his head down between her thighs, careful not to touch more than he had to. He took a steadying breath and he saw her naked body respond to his warmth so close. He fought back a wave of revulsion and self-loathing by closing his eyes as he leaned closer, opening his mouth to her intimate area.

-

After, Fjord is desperately wanting to wash his mouth out. With alcohol, if he can snag it. But she has not released him, yet, and he knows better by now than to leave without her say-so.

“You did so good, darling. You made momma _very_ happy today,” she says in a heavy voice masquerading as light and airy. She laughs like fairies are dancing in the air around her, yet it makes Fjord’s stomach churn.

“Ms.—M-Momma,” he barely remembers to correct himself. She made him refer to her only by _momma_ when she had him alone. He was just barely coherent enough to want to avoid the punishment at a potential mess up. "Am I excused?"

"A couple more questions, Mr. Stone, and then you can go back to working with your friends." Fjord knew she knew he didn't have any friends to speak of at the orphanage. But just as is expected of him, he doesn't question her. He's already stuck his neck out far enough asking to be excused instead of letting her tell him when he was allowed to go. Her voice had gotten tighter as she answered, clearly mildly displeased at his haste.

Fjord nodded and waited self-consciously for her to speak. She took a few deep breaths, her eyes raking over him.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asks, voice high and sugar-sweet once more.

“Yes, momma. Thank you,” Fjord says, knowing it is what is expected of him.

"Good. You know how much I love taking care of my little darling, don't you?" she asks.

Fjord clutches his hands in a tight grip behind his back, trying not to show how they tremble to the woman before him.

"Yes, of course, momma. You always take g-good care of me," Fjord replies, trying to keep his voice smooth.

She stands, stepping closer to him. "One last thing. A kiss for your mother, darling?” she asks, lips slightly open, eyes blown wide. Fjord is thankful for a moment that he’s already green, knowing his complexion would be heading that way if he wasn’t, feeling every emotion of _wrongness_ well in him at her question.

But Fjord is well-trained, despite the new scenario. He will always be a good boy, for her, at her command. His life would somehow be even more hellish without her using her influence to protect him at the orphanage. 

Fjord leans in, pressing their lips together. Fjord is kissing her and it’s all wrong. This has never been a part of what she's asked of him, before. For a moment he feels a flash of disappointment that the stories he’s heard of first kisses aren’t in fact magical, but painful.

He breaks away first, taking a few quick breaths. His hands curl and uncurl into fists at his sides, his fingernails digging their own crescent marks into his palms as his only way of expressing his disgust.

"My, my. Something to work on for next time, it seems, darling." She laughs lightly, turning her back on him and gathering her robe tighter to her body. "Well done. You're dismissed," she says with a lazy flap of her hand. "Put yourself back in order and leave. I have a meeting soon and I need to get ready."

Fjord feels a heavy stone in his gut as he quickly rights his clothing and retrieves the bag he’d brought with him. He nods in the expected amount of respect to her and turns away, back to the cramped quarters of the other halls in the orphanage.

He feels detached from himself again, the walk feeling as if it took two minutes and 200 years at the same time. It’s blessedly empty when he returns. The others must still be in the workshop. He grabs his bathing supplies and slips into the shared bathroom between the thirty-some boys he lives with. He quickly washes off, a thousand yard stare at the wall as he does so. He retches bile down the drain with the soap and for a moment he imagines following the filth down the drain and disappearing.

He climbs into his bunk and faces the wall. In the rare moment of privacy he takes a moment to allow tears, curled into a ball and alone, hands clutching himself together, his nails digging in and causing little claw marks on his arms. He’s always been alone, and he always will be.

-

He goes to bed without dinner that night and doesn’t sleep for two days. Mr. Woodson slaps his wrists for breaking a frame he’d been crafting in the shop with the other children. He’d been nearly finished with it, but the lack of sleep made him clumsy and he wasn’t as coordinated as the others, anyway, all out of sorts with his body with no guide to show him how to adjust to his half-orc, half-who-knows heritage.

Fjord barely feels the lashes to his wrists, though, the rough wooden stick Mr. Woodson uses being a familiar sensation. Distantly he feels himself wish for a hundred more lashes if it meant he never had to fall under the disciplinary action of—

“Darling, I heard you broke a frame a few moments ago—are you alright? Do you have a splinter?” Fjord turns away from the nurse as quickly as he can, picking up the tools to restart the project once more.

“N-no ma’am, I’m okay. Honest,” he says, not quite making eye contact despite all the lessons she’d impressed on him. She looked over him skeptically before nodding once, slowly.

“Alright, but don’t hesitate to come see me if that changes, okay? I’ll always take care of my little darlings, every which one,” she says in a light and airy voice, smiling brightly and ruffling the hair of the boy on the other side of Fjord playfully. She turns to speak to Mr. Woodson briefly before finally leaving the room. Fjrod feels sweat prick at his brow and his shaky hands nearly snapped another piece of crafting wood.

“Watch what you’re doing, _freak_ ,” the boy next to him sneered. “You’re gonna fuck up this whole batch, and drag the whole table down with ya. If Woodson yells at me for _your_ mistakes, I’ll make sure ya get the pounding of a lifetime.” The boy leans closer, his foul breath invading Fjord’s space. “I’ll beat ya so bad you won’t be able to leave the infirmary for a month, got it?”

Fjord nods, setting down the pieces, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. A month in _her_ infirmary? Fjord’s emotions jumbled and swelled together until he coughed into his arm, trying to dispel the uncertainty and fear of a death sentence like that.

“No, of course. I’ll—uh, be more careful. Sorry,” Fjord rushes out, still nodding, scared.

“You better,” the boy says before taking up his own tools and once more ignoring Fjord’s existence entirely. Fjord shudders out a breath and reaches for one of the orbs instead of the fragile wood. He’d focus on painting the base coat and swirls today, something easy and not as fragile. He pushed all thoughts out of his brain and worked, never quite able to fully abandon a slight tremor in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I promise other stories in this series will be not this dark. But as long as Travis doesn't give us any backstory to work with, we get to imagine anything. And sometimes you just need to write a bad beginning to get through the Times.
> 
> Comments/Kudos appreciated. Thanks :)


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